


Avatar: What Should Not Be

by Itachi_S_Lucius



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Historical Dress, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-16 14:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15439398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachi_S_Lucius/pseuds/Itachi_S_Lucius
Summary: Naruto awoke upon a Fire Navy ship, a long way from home, many years from his time, and fleeing from a duty he could not fill. Instead, he hides. One cannot hide forever, not even the Avatar.





	1. Book One: Liquid Guilt, Chap One: The Avatar Awakens

**Of course I did, you should've known this was coming.**

* * *

_**Prologue** _

_Scrolls told of how the Fire Nation attacked. A havoc descended upon the entire world on the day of the solstice a hundred years prior. Ripping the heavens, causing tears from La and Tui those in balance lost their rhythm as they wept. The ink faded in sections, old, worn, and well used from the many copies made for the people of the nation. In a time when oppression and distrust held them hostage they had melted the shackles and rose anew as a phoenix from the ashes of shame. An army awaited on the borderlands of the Southern Water tribe, an armada upon the Earth Kingdom, an invasion force with the ability of a legion on the cliff sides of the Air Temples. A victory that elevated the people, each airbender destroyed and the Avatar cycle broken by the death of Ryoku, and the destruction of the Nomads, it was a through belief that none could rise from such a genocide._

_Among many, it was a scroll he had read upon first setting foot upon Fire Nation soil. A sorrow that left nothing but a hole encasing his soul plundered through him at the understanding of a world he now belonged in. The truth within the Fire Nation was undeniable, irrefutable, without a complete cycle no Avatar could be reborn, there was no stopping point to the war, no unsung hero to guide the mass protests. As such it was decreed that the war of a hundred years would end under the rule of Fire Lord Madara._

_By all accounts the man held little mercy, empathy, blazing high with passion, conviction and ruthless desire. A painstaken stubborn set certainty of victory. Seen widely as the herald from afar, sent by the deities to save a starving nation from the clutches of starvation and economic drought. Before him, his father had begun the campaign under those conditions worsened, the entire Fire Nation having been plagued by unjust taxation, racism and stunted by mockery for the anger in their fists._

_None had seen the attack before it had occurred, the monks themselves had remained ignorant of impending extinction. Pacifists of great skill indeed were easily destroyed by those who pertained only anger from prejudice so long held. In time sections of the Earth Kingdom surrendered, jest; of unbroken will being past from soldier to soldier, the Southern Water tribe was pillaged of all waterbenders, taken for extermination at various ages for several decades. Their great city fell, and only remained a bone society of elders and children screaming for their parents._

_Sixty years- nearing seventy, into the war a young Prince Madara, than Lieutenant was under the command of General, serving to have WaterBenders shipped to the jail rigs or passed the judgement of execution. Each to his eye a Waterbender appearing as the rest, brown haired with dark toned skin, blue eyes and round faces. All looking upon the iron of the ship at their feet without any keen resolve to survive found. Within the last line he was instructed to pass upon judgement did his eyes meet another's for the first time that day._

_The one who's eyes clashed with his own could remember the exact phrasing used to describe the event._ _'I have met many waterbenders, you each have the same eye colour, yours are not blue at all.'_ _The fellow crewmen that day had been questioning each other privately once it had been said out loud. For certainly the prince could see for himself that the eyes were indeed blue._

_However, the rest of the man was not common among those of the Water tribe. Sun-kissed skin, but not darkened in hue, instead honeycomb. With hair of spun exotic gold as the colours cultivated by Fire Nation Royalty. Not a rounded face, but one of a heart equal parts tranquil as it was fearless. While his eyes were blue they possessed three differing shades of the same colour, a blue tinted grey as that in the Earth Kingdom hotsprings, the clear aquamarine of the tropical islands of the Fire Nation, and the deep navy of arctic seas with Water bender borders. Bright and so layered._

_Many people had asked the crew of the ship that day what had intrigued the prince, yet their answered had never changed._ _'For the Prince, in that moment, there was no one more interesting, it was attraction unlike anything understood by common man.'_

_Merely four years later, and that very same perspective prisoner became the spouse of the Prince, the official heir to the throne, regardless of potential water tribe heritage. A year later, after the death of Fire Lord Tajima, Madara's father, that prisoner became Fire Keeper and the second most powerful person within all of the Fire Nation._

This story is about him. 

* * *

With the sun came the Fire benders, upon cresting over the horizon it drew forth their strengths and raise them from slumber. While on the mountainous regions of the Eastern Air Temple it was nearing noon, beautiful sight in morning when the peaks of the temple would burn a bright emerald and the gold would glitter, the marble would shine. Every morn, for the slightest moment he would wait and watch the sun, envisioning.

By this time of course, he was alone within the bedchamber, free to do as he pleased. So for that time, without a guard to intrude, without a child to supervise, he would sit and meditate, practise his movements -never bending. Before leaving and adhering to his duties. It was a vigorous life, well met with riches for spending, and draped with the most luxurious of clothing. This was expectant it could be attributed still to the previous Keeper of Firelord Tajima, regality set standard and was not without presentation to the people as a symbol of the well functioning nature of their Nation.

Unspoken, but well learned was the role of the Fire Keeper, more discriminately -yet fundamentally- referred to as the wife of the Fire Lord. A role wherein the people would be pacified by, eased and soothed of worry that the war should turn. It was the position of peacemaker, in a spiritual sense. The commoners and noblemen saw the robes of fine silk and woven gold, and were impressed under the riches it hinted upon, with the turn of the fabric loose, and flowing freely around the feet in a pool of elegance the Fire Nation was under the assumption that the war favoured them. With the kind disposition of the Fire Keeper, calm, and gentle in spite of calamitous times, the people held to faith that they would be restored and respected by the other nations.

While tedious, this positioning, this type of peacemaking was far more a manageable task then the one he had been born into. A place in the world, he would much rather forget, along with the rest of the Nation's people. In fact so known was the hatred among the royal family of the Avatar the title itself was forbidden to be spoken in their presence. This rule was believed to have been crafted by his Highness, however, it was in fact his Majesty who had brandished it. Under the pretense of hatred, yet not even his husband knew the deep rooted animosity for the title 'Avatar' was in fact a sprouted grievance that his spouse could never escape from.

Hidden from all insulting eyes, foes and family alike lain within was a guilt amassed by the riches he had accumulated. His children, his husband, even the nation which he so served in loyalty surmounted his guilt over the many years, congregating it into a great mass that he could no longer break himself from. Rooted into all decisions he could, it coloured his eyes with a hideous fog not unlike the fragility of paned glass. Worse yet his choice had never steered him into regret, not feasible with the family he held so dear, a love he had thought impossible was what he now possessed. Of course, he knew, this is what the monks had warned him of, and whenever that occurred to him it brought a tear, for he had never been selfish before. How had he become such a one-sided man as to not do what he must, recuse himself, and follow the rules?

Fear was a useful tool, that was one thing he had most certainly learned first-hand within the Fire Nation. It had caused him to run from everything he had known, though it had been meant to be temporary, it was an instinctual response that he suffered from everyday.

"Your Majesty." Said a guard from his right, rigid, and bowing as respectfully as he could from such a tense posture. Clearly still green around the horns, to be so nervous around him, it was rather known around the military that he was far from strict. "His Highness requests your presence immediately." That had his thin brows creasing his forehead, nearly worrying his lower lip as he followed the young man to the Challenger's Chamber, his twining hands hidden under his sleeves. Impression had him to believe that something was most certainly amiss.

"Father please!" The first sight that he is given is the unseemly view of his youngest begging his father, from within the Ring of Fire. Shaking from his placement on the ground, his husband positioned above him standing stall, hair loose down his back, contrasting against his pale shirtless form. A stoic expression as a bellow of smoke escapes his nose. His fists are clenched, and in recognition of traditional Fire Bending requiring a closed fist, Naruto: known throughout his Nation as the very personification of regality, a royal, jumps into the Ring of Fire, and stands directly in front of his now weeping child. Defying his Lord with no second thought on the matter, no consequences considered.

So fast are his thoughts, he nearly drops into a defensive stance indicative of a bender, nearly. However, his mind snaps to him, as he near roars above the clamour in the hall, the gossip loudly speaking silences at his anger.

"I wish to know, just why my son is grovelling on the ground, why is Father stands above him in threat, and why this seems to be a spectacle!" His arms sweep in the surrounding area where many servants and officers watch, all of them now thin lipped and many attempting a hasty retreat as the Fire Keeper's eyes rest on them with a scowling lip.

"M-Mom…" Quiver's the youngest, rising now from his position on the floor. His eyes are downcast, clearly humiliated from whatever this occurrence had been about, it mattered not to his mother. For he wore now a fragile calmness depicted best by how his eyes had turned from their usual multitudes of blue hues into two replicas of glacial ice. Cold anger rarely, if ever displayed.

"Your tantrum is unnecessary. We spoke of this last night." To this the man had to ponder carefully. There had been no point in their conversation involving humiliation. However, they had spoken briefly of the customary challenge that would be presented forth on Sasuke's thirteenth birthday, in leu of Fire Nation tradition. A huddle to be overcome presented forth by the son's father as a show of strength and a coming of age. Surely this could not be the challenge, whatever it was, it made no sense.

"The coming of age?" It was meant as a statement, yet spoken as a question in the confusion of the current proceedings. Above him, his husband heaved a loud sigh.

"He refused." Naruto stood still, blinking through the information. His youngest was prideful, his eyes were hopeful for recognition and a prideful word from his father. There was no task he could fathom that Sasuke would refuse not to please his father, and uphold his honorable pride. Although if Madara had known of this, he would have chosen something best suited for battling that ideal. He had done similarly with their eldest, although that had been a far different experience then now, he hadn't been there, and the only thing he had known for certain was that his pacifistic son had become colder and more calculable in the aftermath.

Knowing nothing he remained silent. A great slam echoed in the absence as the eastern door opened violently to a frantic adviser. "Sir! There was a riot at the North most prison, some waterbenders-" Naruto's breath hitched suddenly in his throat, his chest stilling. This was not a discussion he was meant to overhear, not one he wished to bare knowledge of. Yet, his feet did not move, his body did not sway, and while his heartbeat sounded loudly within his head the voice filled the entire room. A piece of himself listened to every word, inertly he was being screamed at by all manifestations of his own spirit. A great war of vices within his own body. "-we made an example by killing their elderly, however some of them still escaped sir."

Killing? A mutter escaped him, a spear pierced through his torso, he was certain. His head felt so very light, and he had to place a hand to keep it from falling away to the floor. Killing is wrong, he recalled, a teaching the monks had taught with the most stern of expressions, stealing and coveting was wrong, knowledge and nirvana were blessings to the man and woman alike, freedom a great purveyor. Death a mortality never shaken but never forced. His mentor was a good man of great renown respected for both ability and wisdom alike.

_"Madara, when I marry you. I wish to ask a favour. Keep me from this. This war, leave me at peace from its details. The atrocities, the grotesque nature in which it upholds. Keep me from it, or I shall surely become ill."_

" _You are the Avatar. You are the balance between the spirit realm and our own, you govern the forced between us. You wield all four elements as a balance to this world. It is a noble honour to be the peacekeeper in our world. For that will always be your responsibility, without the Avatar our nations would fall."_

Inside him, his lives raged. Battling as a single voice. "What have I done." He had ran away from a fate he could not understand. And the realities of war, now, they reached him. Plain and ugly, sharp and painful to the flesh of his body, weightful and straining, guilt-ridden on his mind. This war continued a circle of death that his life should be forfeited for, his intent to hide from everything he was in duty had caused millions to suffer under selfish action.

He had been taught from birth, that all life was sacred.

In tears, he looked to his husband, the purveyor of death to these lands. His husband, the man who spoke of liberation and peace to all people. His husband, a plague. His husband, the father of his children, the love of his life. His husband, a child raised of struggle and discrimination; now the vessel for its message. Within, his mind joined into one for just a moment, silence, and the rustle of the leaves outside, the breath in his lungs, the sniffling of his son. Revelation, reached him. While he remained positive in himself that he could not stop desiring nor loving the man who burned each precious land, he would now become the very representation of what he was trying to eradicate. At least to his mind.

Madara had always spoken of peace when they had met. The driving's of war had caused a violent man to emerge. Still there but no longer functioning as a whole piece of a man, merely shuffled away under the pretense of saving a people who no longer needed liberation. The message, the ideal was not one of malevolence, however it was not plain.

He touched the Fire Lord's arm with his hand, bringing his attention to him rather than the nervous adviser. He was met with startled red flashing eyes, and a sympathetic twitch of his eyebrow in the annoyance that the adviser had not held his tongue in proper protocol. It made Naruto quiver at the knees to see it, his lip trembled a little from poisoning thoughts, and he pushed them down far for the time being. Instead he used the emotion swelling so loudly within as a conduit, pushing them into a kiss more forceful then any he had ever given. So very improper in company. He couldn't care now, not when in bed they would not hold each other like this, not when he would leave in the night, and possibly never again feel the heat of his husband's kisses. Passionfull every time he indulged himself.

Through the years, he felt certain he knew the man. For many of them, that had been enough to dissuade him of his duties.

He had been twelve when they had met, and it spoke highly of Madara that his persona and ideals had been intoxicating enough that at thirty-three Naruto was only just realizing how useless this war was becoming. In the beginning he had been sympathetic, he understood the position the Fire Nation had been in, even when Madara himself confessed he hadn't. Words could not properly convey how distrusted the people of the Fire Nation had been back then. When his eldest had been born in the summer months of his seventeenth year he had begun to worry that the war was causing that opinion to flourish ever faster. Back then, Madara had agreed with him rather then his father. Sixteen years was a long time however, and while Naruto was sure that his husband still knew what he was doing bore nothing but destruction, the man had changed.

Once more he would be selfish. Then, the people he had been meant to serve would feel his compassion as they always should have.

He broke from the kiss.

"That- was unexpected." Naruto felt at his lips, sore from his own doing, and smirked up at the man. "For what reason do I owe your passion?" He seemed confused, not shocking given that the man was not a fool, and certainly knew he was still angry for what he had done to make their youngest cry.

"I am angry with you, make no mistake. However, I've had a long day, and will be in need of some… soothing later in the evening, so I have no intent of making that difficult to ascertain for myself later. That said, I should slap you, the silent treatment for the rest of the day will work for now." With that he spun on himself, and marched away as dignified as he could with his son at his heels.

* * *

"Mother." The water seemed to speak, but he knew without any glance made that it was in fact his son swinging from the tree above the pond, peering down with the appearance of nonchalance as his father no doubt. Naruto did not look up from his restful position, considering everything he need make ready before leaving. But he did let loose a smile into the water, if nothing else he could do this for his children and their future. He had that responsibility already.

No doubt his eldest had noticed his strange mood, and was making comment. "Yes." His hand steered towards the clear surface, wanting to disturb it in childish impulse. Something that had never fully fled him, no matter the years.

"You're planning something aren't you?" A snort was his answer, for this was expected for a man so vigilant. Now he looked to his son, hanging from a branch with his hair cascading around him in a strange point, with reddened eyes just like Madara, and strained lines.

"What do you know of the Avatar?" He wondered what the general opinion was. Unfortunately the best way to find that out was through the son best connected with his father's feelings. Naturally this inherited a suspicious glance, and a raised eyebrow. Still, the man swung from his perch and sat himself down next to his mother in the shade. Out of habit Naruto ran his hands through the silken black hair beside him.

"Not much more then what father says. Apparently they were born into the Air Nomad's a hundred or so years ago, the cycle being broken after we attacked on the day of Tajima's commit. Father doesn't believe that though, he isn't sure but he thinks that the Avatar was reborn into the next life, a waterbender. He's been preparing for that eventuality, sending several spies into the Northern Water Tribe and North Most areas of the Earth Kingdom to keep watch." He son moved on his shoulder, cuddling closer then he normally would. Perhaps he had inherited his Mother's own ability to sense when change was coming. "I'm surprised you asked. You don't enjoy hearing about the war. You're a pacifist." With that Naruto had to take a deep breath, and bite at his tongue, longing to reply that he had not been the only one.

"I can fight if I deem it necessary, do not interject my pacifistic nature as weakness or subservience." He said instead, resting his head over his son's own, twisting and turning his complicated headpieces in a strainful way, it bothered him not after so many years, still he would be glad to be rid of them.

"You don't believe in this war… Do you?" It was quiet, but potent.

"It has served its purpose." He took a breath, fighting tears of sorrow, knowing he no longer had a right to them. Not with his decisions thus far, ignoring the needs of the people for his own selfish purpose. "I love you Itachi. Know this and never forget." The water was rippling now, one of the fish having jumped, there could be no more tranquil absence it seemed. Everything must prove an action.

"I love you too Mom." Mom… That felt nice, he hadn't heard Itachi call him that for several years, he had become so formal lately.

"I love you too Mommy!" Onto his back came a large but significantly smaller body, a young thirteen year old. He laughed, not having realized that his youngest had been listening in the entire time.

"Honestly Sasuke! Act your age!" Came the expected reply from the eldest, Sasuke rarely ever acted his age after all. And it often caused an argument between the two of them. Before anything could start he reached around himself, and using one of his tiny bending tricks pushed his son around so that the boy could easily be in his arms, keeping Itachi in place.

"I have you now!" He prodded Sasuke's side jarringly with an index finger, which had the poor boy shrieking loudly in the garden, and jumping straight into the water. Both he and Itachi attempted to stifle their laughter unsuccessfully.

"Come now Sasuke its very unprincely to jump into a pond."

"Shut up Itachi!" Remembering something Naruto laughed louder.

"You shouldn't tease your brother, after all, your father did the exact same thing once." That attracted both their attentions, he closed his mouth tightly though. Giggling internally at their curiosity, rather their need to know. Madara was a man of rigid control, not known to be shocked easily. Only considering that he wouldn't be seeing his beloved children for a long time he decided for their sake as much as his own to tell the tale of just before he and their father were due to be wedded, during his sixteenth year. One last bedtime fable.

* * *

The sunset brought dread. As the people of the Fire Nation set themselves to sleep, their Keeper began his long preparations to leave as a designated traitor. With each moment passing, the longing to remain in ignorance grew, it was an instinct familiar, yet this time he pushed it to the farthest reaches. He even sought out traditional prayer to steady his mind, cultivating the method of his people for peace of mind for the first time in many years.

Strange was the thought that he would have to change his garments. He had grown accustomed to the heavy yet bellowing fabric of the Fire Nation's Daxiushan, coloured so beautifully in light Cyan. Even his headwear would be missed, although not as much, he did hold a particular preference to the loose style of the monks. The colour was also easier on the eyes then the more spiritual hanfu colours of brightened orange, yellow, and red orange. Of course, within the fire nation, the common colour was a vibrant red, and if in public he would don a deep crimson with golden detailing's as loyalty demanded. That however, was very rare, which would make his job now much easier.

Already it would be a hassle to be unrecognizable to the Fire Nation's people. So he had thus conducted himself to return to the Eastern Temple to perform the 'Tri' ritual. An old tradition rather frowned upon within the nomads of cutting each cheek three times as the mark of a warrior for the protection of the temples. He would also dawn a traditional hanfu for the sake of his own comfort, his hair would also be down and tied away with a long vial placed at the center of his head with beads holding it in place. Grab his staff, and then continue downwards to the Southern Water Tribe, in hope that there would be a waterbending master he could learn from. Judging by what Itachi had told him, that place wasn't being monitored by the military yet. Hopefully he would also be able to free Kyu -his spirit guide from the ice.

For now he would make love to his husband, selfishly.

In the morning, he would pray for himself a safe travels, and become the Avatar.


	2. The Eastern Air Temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did involve some minor descriptions of Chinese clothing. However, I am certainly no expert, it can be very confusing, so I did my best to describe it simply. That said, if its wrong, well oops, I didn't mean for it to be.

Tranquility could be missed, even by someone as free spirited and fervent as him, the predominance of his new life so far had been spent in one nation. Bathed in the warming fires forever roaring about him. the warm brought to him by his children’s cries as they wanted for their mother’s comfort the need for his affection. The exasperated glances from the advisers who though him a poor choice of counsel when the Firelord was away. A boiling oil like burn as his husband touched him in only the way a husband could. Fire so heated all about him from every hall of the palace, to the streets of the lower Fire Nation welcoming his presence with praise and kind gestures. He could suppose that this was what made tranquility seem so simple in his mind. A continuous warmth could blind one to the cold, and once that mindset occurs the acknowledgement of winter ceases to be a concern. Reality an unpleasant consideration while comforted by warming wealth in delusion.  

 

Possibly the reason why he had rarely ventured from his palace, a fear of something now foreign to him. Fear certainly drove him now, although it was more bold in its declaration. It near had him in tears the possibility that his children, his beautiful sons should hate him scarred his very mind with plaguing images he did not desire to comprehend. He attempted to soothe himself with little comforts that where all white lies onto his own psyche; he could still turn back, pretend he had contemplated none of this and hold his sweet children, make love to his husband, advise the council in an ease to the war. That was something he held the power to do, both politically and fundamentally. 

 

However, it was his wisdom that had him on another footpath. Something he had not been following in recent, yet proved privital now. The war could be helped with his efforts in the political sphere perhaps. What would truly turn the tide was if he understood the nature of the battlefield. How the people survived, what damages had been done, the sympathies, the grievances, grudges and hopes sitting within the people of the Nations. For he could be a symbol for peace and a mantle of all to gaze at as the Avatar, but he had to understand and acknowledge the crimes of his own people before he could do anything aidful. 

 

That was what the bettermost Kings and rulers of the past knew and upheld, a wisdom onto their own. Perhaps the Avatar was perceived largely as a figurehead when the true heirs to their kingdoms made all the necessary reforms. Yet there was a need to lead not by action but example. If the Avatar who had abandoned them all could see what suffering they endured then it was plausible that some sort of peace within the people could be restored, from a moral standpoint. Even, he could venture to think from the confines of his home, should he convince his lord husband the merits of peacemaking. Of course that type of practised espionage is not his best trait. 

 

Sighing, he grasped the fans tucked in his hair, items that hadn’t seen usage for eighty years now, flicking them open he worried for their durability. They were the remnants of a life so far gone, though he had kept them so close to him, at all times upon his person. His husband had never seen fit to question them. Wooden and plain for the design of the nomads was to not long for luxury, although his did have a pattern of the elemental circle in golden paint on the leafs of ivory. Having been so far removed from his heritage he knew not how to ascend the towering slopes, all he had to aid himself was wit and acrobatics so infrequently practised. A grief settled as he ripped out each hair piece which would only weigh him down and corrupt his balance. Fine pieces of gold and ruby, then went the heavy Da xiu shan until he stood nude as the day he was borne, he felt no shame at this self exploitation, despite having lived most of his time cowering in a land of modesty. 

 

The feel of his hair draping long against his back was familiar and homely, even still it only rained down to his lower back, scandalously short for Fire Benders who saw the length of hair as a symbol of virtue. To Airbenders it was a get fault to show one’s hair publically, so most cut it completely way or draped a hijab over and under it to hide the obstruction, typically with a beaded crown overtop. A tradition he would be obligated to adhere to under the knowledge that he would be recognized if he did to little to hide himself. 

 

Finally, upon breathing his last steading breath he jumped. Ascending mightily into the air he made is fans the rutter and jutted his direction towards the nearmost cliff, on his left. The jar of gravity apprehending him briefly before he became accustomed to the change and he made to jump again. His aim was the center temple, and while he was incapable of viewing the top from his vantage he could well make his way to its pinical without to much difficulty.  What caused grief was the lightness of the air, from humidity to thin viscosity was a type of transition he was not prepared for and the sheer jolt of the experience had him struggling for breath within moments. Beneficial became his birthright as his screaming lungs became quickly adapt to the difference in the air. Fresh mountain air unlike the heated and rather unpleasant air within his home. 

 

This time he jumped and flipped backwards leaning the air in his direction so that he could land safely. The cold stone was painful to his feet which had become delicate over years of shoes. That however, mattered not to the swelling appreciation for breathing as it seemed to have become a lost artform for himself as the scenery of tall emerald spires and ivory glinted, snow glittering as it normally did while a harsh breeze blew past him scraping every inch of his body. For in a horizon’s ship passing there was a moment wherein he could see with clarity. The leviability that the temple be held, all the persons fretting about, laughing and speaking hurriedly in a corner, he even saw his old Master prancing about within that fine span of a moment. 

 

All things he could not allow contemplation on, mere appreciation in passing would be his consolation as he travelled through to the head high temple, wherein lay the materials needed for the ceremony, along with the traditional clothing of his people. Occasionally he would pass by an illusion of his own imagining that in glimpse appeared to wave or nod to him, those he ignored with as much resolution he could muster. It was self imposed decorum to always attempt to see forth a grin in the sun, a smile that he could use to keep brightened: in this he saw a chance to see what had been with a glimmer of amusement and wistful levity rather then melancholy. A difficult management of self control to hold the resolution, for while he could grin it was not without grimace following. 

 

Memory of muscle guided him now, for every entrance he passed and hall he wondered lay the display of destruction capable of his own people and the fire benders when in anger. Rare was it to see an airbender fight an offensive stance, still remained the understanding that it was unkindly true in history. Present of himself, he could not contemplate what face to hold. Under the rule of his lord husband came the ingrained belief of the Fire Nation’s people to hold emotion as sacred, but weakness before the beholder. While the Monks valued certain leaning as evil and good, baring yourself onto others was expectation and respectable onto each party. Having been held within both his own mentality battled for dominance, with no yield in sight. So expression unchanged, he reached the chambers shared by himself and those his age. 

 

As the sharp crack of bone strung, he winced. His bed had been placed at the furthest left of the circular room. A small mattress, comfortable, and far to small, covered with the dust of a century and yet still scattered with the belongings he had forgone cleaning. For a moment it made him feel amiss, eased by the presence of nothing. As quick as it had come he silenced the odd tiding. 

 

Within the small box next to his matress was placed an old preserved hijab of brightened cherry with a crown of wooden yellow beads for comfort along with a smaller ring of beads in order to tie the hijab at the back once the hair had been gathered, braided and held to the head. Ancient would better describe the article, as it had last been used by the previous Airbending Avatar, Kushina. As were the fans he now carried. Decades ago, he had sworn he would never cast himself into wearing it, a vow he would now break in selfless want. He knew he in truth, was not a selfless man. 

 

Beside the red hijab was a small dagger, a commodity among nomads banned in every tample to be seen by the youths. They were only utilized during the ‘Tri’ ritual and blessing. A path held solely by warriors. According to her painted depictions and tellings of her by the eldest, Avatar Kushina had never proceeded with the Tri. Wanting for herself the ease of her purity rather then tarnish herself with blood. A true nomad. 

 

Naruto knew he could not compare to such an aspired woman. He was, blood stained already in the print of his husband’s hand, from his fingertips to his own negligence. He could proceed as divisive without regret to forgone traditional values. Next was an old friends room, an older teacher who had possessed a hanfu that was both beautiful and vintage even by the standards of the time. As such the fire nation would be even less likely to recognize him. The very last thing he could ever want was for his sons to hear from their own father that their mother was in fact the enemy to be killed. He could imagine no worse fate. 

 

As expected the garment was hidden well away, remaining intact, and while slightly discoloured in areas it was still vibrant. 

 

In lew of following complete tradition, from urgency the Avatar beheld the blade within his right hand and upon the thought of the protection of dear ones made as deep cuts he dared, three onto each cheek. A mark of servitude towards a cause greater then himself, something he had never served and was hesitant in its teachings. Blood ran thick, and hurt, stinging in a way he had not experienced in his life as of yet. The essence of one's life draining upon a drop of liquid. The tears he shed were unwillful, yet, he daren’t cry out or yell in pain, it was his burden to bare, not for another to listen to, even if shadows of ghosts were all that remained. 

 

‘ _ Forgiveness,’  _ He spoke silently within himself, and as the pain eased his eyes opened with newfound clarity. 

 

The hanfu was of old design nearing two-hundred years of age, outdated and unflattering to commodity. However undeniably elegant and fitting to his fighting style. Being vintage, it was far different from what the fire nation had now, or indeed ever had. Instead of a robe descending down from the chest it was a folded collar with a peaking of the ivory robe underneath. The fabric  of the top layer was dominantly a pale yellow with creeping patterns of ivy at the cuffs barely reaching midway up the cuffs -which descended nearly to the floor with his arms down. H collar itself was with fine pattern of a lesser nature creating a simple grace to the upper torso. The tangerine toned sash was tied at the stomach as xian encasing a in lain ornament of jade in the shape of the seal of airbenders. There was a waist skirt of melon orange, but this was made before the decorative shao had became prominent. Then of course continued the pale yellow of silk. 

 

It had been many a year since he had worn anything even resembling this design, nevermind this light in its colour, and airy in appearance. So as he dressed it was hesitant in remembering how each thing was tied to what, and he had folded the cross the wrong way having to undo it all before he was ready. 

 

Back when he could have ridden Kyu this whole adventure would have been much simpler, as it was he would have to return to the South Pole in order to find his spirit guide safety held away in the ice. With luck on his side he may be able to sneak onto a patrolling Fire ship for a partial voyage, then he would need to go unto either another fire ship around the Earth Kingdom or exchange some fire nation money for Earth currency and bored a ship nearing the pole. 

  
  



End file.
